


Celestial Bodies

by pixelated



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Bathing/Washing, Editor Remus, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Get Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Oral Sex, Painter Sirius, Shower Sex, Smut, body painting, neighbors to lovers, overuse of Chinese fortune cookies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixelated/pseuds/pixelated
Summary: When his attractive new neighbor asks him to pose for some paintings, Remus Lupin reluctantly agrees—but he doesn’t expect to find truth, trust, confidence, and maybe even love in the middle of it all.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Alice Longbottom/Frank Longbottom, Euphemia Potter/Fleamont Potter, Hope Lupin/Lyall Lupin, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Mary Macdonald/Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 310
Kudos: 893





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is complete and will be updated Mondays and Thursdays.
> 
> Special thanks to K & S for cheerleading!

_ Knock knock knock. _

The abrupt sound startles Remus awake. He grumbles and stretches his arms over his head, then rubs his bleary eyes before grabbing his glasses from the floor and shoving them back onto his face. Quickly, he checks the time on his phone and stands to make his way to the door— he must’ve fallen asleep while waiting for his lunch to arrive. 

As soon as he pulls the door open Remus has regrets— he knows his hair is a wild mess of untamed curls, his socks are mismatched, the oversized jumper he’s wearing makes it look as if he isn’t wearing any shorts beneath it, and the bags under his eyes are so dark he probably looks like he’s on a bender. If it had actually been the delivery kid with his Chinese food from Chang’s Remus wouldn’t have minded so much, but instead it is his ridiculously fit neighbor who has just moved into the flat beside his holding a thick stack of envelopes and advertisements. 

“Hey,” the guy greets Remus with a cheeky crooked grin while giving him a thorough once-over, and Remus is suddenly very aware of his bare legs and his knobby knees— he tugs on the hem of his jumper to no avail. “I uh. I have your post, I think. You’re Remus, right? 3B?” he asks and holds up a few bills. “They delivered to the wrong box.”

“Yeah. Um. Yes, thank you,” Remus stumbles over his words awkwardly and reaches out to take the post from his neighbor. “Thanks for that. 3A, right?”

“Yep, that’s me. And it’s no problem,” the man says with a shrug. “Gave me an excuse to come over and introduce myself anyway. Sirius Black,” he offers, and sticks out his hand. 

Remus takes the proffered hand and shakes it. “Remus Lupin. Nice to finally meet you.” He nods politely, but he can’t help but look down as he notices how calloused the man’s hand is and the blue smudges on his fingertips. The man snatches his hand back suddenly.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he says with a chuckle and wipes his hand on his grey paint-splattered sweatpants to no effect. “It’s dried though, I promise.”

“That’s okay.” Remus smiles and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re an artist then?”

“Yeah, yeah. Lots of different stuff, but lately I’ve been dabbling in post-impressionist painting.”

“I… have no idea what that means, despite my own mother being a painter as well,” Remus admits and Sirius laughs so loudly it echoes down the hallway. “But I am curious.”

“Good. You don’t have to pretend to like it if you ever see it.”

“I thought you were a musician to be honest,” Remus says and hitches a thumb toward Sirius’s flat. “I always hear music through our shared wall.”

“Oh right. Sorry. I like to have music on while I paint and tend to zone out, but I will make a conscious effort to turn it down.”

“Don’t apologize, I don’t mind. It’s actually quite nice background noise while I work myself.”

“Work from home too then?”

“Yeah, I’m a copy editor. I’ve been working my arse off on this huge project with a deadline,” Remus explains then waves a hand over himself. “Hence the slovenly appearance. I swear I don’t usually look so much like a werewolf during a full moon.”

Sirius laughs again. “No need to explain yourself to a man covered in paint and ink.”

Remus smiles wider and takes a moment of the sudden awkward silence to drink the entirety of Sirius in. He’s taller than average but not in a gangly way and even though he’s quite scruffy, he’s much more handsome than any one person should be allowed to be. His dark hair is pulled back into a messy bun at the back of his head, and his grey eyes sparkle happily even under the cheap fluorescent lighting of their building’s hallway. Sirius isn’t the type of man Remus usually dates (mostly because he is  _ way _ out of Remus’s league) but he sure is nice to look at, and he sends a silent  _ thank you _ to the universe for having the eye candy move in next door.

“Right. Well—” Remus starts to say just as the delivery kid from Chang’s bounds up the stairs and interrupts them to give Remus his bag of food. 

“Right. I should be off then. Leave you to your lunch,” Sirius says while Remus pays the kid. Remus nods.

“Was nice meeting you though.”

“Yeah same. Feel free to pop by whenever.”

“Alright,” he says, and Sirius gives him a little wave before turning and heading back to his flat. Remus brings his lunch inside and closes the door.

He settles himself on the sofa with his General Tso’s tofu and his vegetable lo mein while he flips on Netflix, and when he’s had his fill he cracks open a fortune cookie.

_ ‘You will be presented with an intriguing opportunity,’ _ it reads, and Remus kind of hopes it has something to do with his attractive new neighbor.


	2. Chapter 2

Aside from the low hum of music through the thin wall they share, Remus nearly forgets about his neighbor until another few days pass. He’s lost track of what day it even is due to a lack of sleep, and living off of nothing but coffee and Chang’s delivery because he’s so deeply invested in this crazy editing project— he only knows that he’s down to his last two clean yet mismatched socks, and that means it’s time to take a trip down to the building’s creepy, definitely rat infested, possibly haunted, laundry room.

As he carries the unwieldy plastic basket and holds it against his stomach, Remus pushes the laundry room door open with his hip and drops it onto the floor beside the first empty machine he sees. Just as he’s starting to load the washer, another person enters the room and calls his name.

“Remus! What a coincidence!”

Remus looks up to watch a slightly out of breath Sirius set his own laundry bag down at the washer beside his own, observing that the bag doesn’t really have enough in it for a full load, though Sirius is an artist after all so perhaps he has some paint stains that simply can’t wait.

“Oh, hello Sirius.” Remus greets him with a small smile and a nod, happy to be able to have the chance to talk to Sirius again since their last conversation was cut short, but then he’s suddenly aware that he’s holding his dirty underwear and swiftly chucks them into the machine.

Sirius must notice this because he laughs out loud before dumping the contents of his bag into his machine, but then he frowns. “Shit. I was in such a hurry I forgot my detergent. Can I borrow a bit?”

“Sure,” Remus shrugs and passes the detergent to Sirius when he’s done with it. “You were in a hurry to do laundry?”

“Uh,” Sirius starts, looking away from him. “Yeah. I was… I was out of underwear.”

Remus snickers quietly. He’s almost certain he didn’t see any underwear amongst the few balled up t-shirts in Sirius’s laundry, but he doesn’t point it out. “It’s the middle of the afternoon. You need underwear now? Presumably you’re already wearing some.”

“Uhhh...”

“Oh,” Remus says, and of course his curiosity won’t let him  _ not _ look down. Sirius is wearing those grey sweatpants after all and…  _ Oh indeed. _ He quickly turns back to his machine to fiddle with the settings, not failing to feel the tickle of heat creep up the back of his neck as a furious blush washes over him.

Thankfully, Sirius interrupts his increasingly obscene thoughts. “You know, I don’t really have any friends in the building, but in an attempt to get to know someone, you should stop by. Have a beer with me. I’ll show you my mediocre art and we can have a laugh.”

“Oh right. Maybe,” Remus agrees, raising his eyebrows as he pushes his glasses up. “When I have a break in this project, anyway.”

“What is it you’re working on?” Sirius asks and hops up to sit on top of the lid of the washing machine, kicking his trainers against the metal front. “Sounds like it’s taking up a lot of your time.”

“It’s a manuscript from this guy Lockhart. He’s a real pain in my ass, always hitting on me through email when I send him my corrections, and he goes on and on about these amazing things he’s supposedly done.” Remus rolls his eyes. “As if I’d ever date a guy as vain as he is. His book is much of the same BS. His stories all sound completely made up, but that’s not my job. I only edit.” 

“Tell me to fuck off if this is too invasive but… are you gay?”

Remus laughs through his nose. “Oh, I don’t mind anyone asking. Yeah. I am. You?”

“Pan, yeah.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting.”

“Very interesting indeed.”

Remus smiles and bites his bottom lip. He’s quite positive that Sirius just might be flirting with him.


	3. Chapter 3

They keep bumping into one another— at the mailbox, at the little bodega at the corner, in the middle of the night in their pajamas when someone started a small kitchen fire and the entire building had to evacuate, when Remus is fumbling with his groceries while attempting to unlock his door and making an utter fool of himself (though Sirius doesn’t take the piss, only picks up his fallen oranges with a disgustingly charming smile and  _ damn him _ for wearing those sweatpants again— does the man even own anything else?)

Remus doesn’t dislike the guy, but he’s always there, always distracting him with his perfect face and perfect body, always laughing at Remus’s jokes, always inviting him over, and Remus would love to, he really would, but this project is consuming his life and he’s  _ so close _ to being done with it for good.

Of course, Gilderoy Lockhart is also an extremely insistent man, and in an attempt to play nice and finally celebrate the end of their project, Remus eventually acquiesces to his advances and agrees to dinner— with the condition that his boss, Minerva, also comes along.

Minerva picks him up and they meet Lockhart at a French restaurant called _Delacour_. It’s fancier than any other place Remus has ever eaten at before, and he feels entirely out of his element in his thrifted brown tweed suit, despite how well it fits him. Lockhart, on the other hand, is as cocky and straight-backed as ever in his dark grey suit and lavender silk tie, his wavy blond hair perfectly coiffed, and so much cologne that Remus sneezes whenever the man comes too close. He smells as annoying as he is. But Minerva looks lovely as always in a simple knee-length black dress, and with her naturally pinched, no nonsense demeanor she fits in seamlessly with this crowd.

They order their food and Lockhart helps Remus translate the words on the all-French menu, but when his meal comes it’s not at all what Lockhart described to him— Remus suspects Lockhart doesn’t actually know French, but he doesn’t call him out on it. They toast to their finished project and Lockhart talks of nothing but himself and is completely oblivious to Remus and Minerva’s silent expressions of agony, amusement, and confusion from across the table. 

After paying the bill in full, Lockhart insists he drive Remus back to his flat. Minerva is hesitant, knowing full well of his intentions with Remus, but Remus promises her that he can handle himself and reluctantly, she gives in. 

During the drive, Lockhart rambles on about his expensive car and Remus couldn’t care less if he tried— whatever information Lockhart tells him about what they’re actually in enters one ear and promptly falls out of the other side of his head. He’s sure it's a rental, anyway. Remus only knows that the seats are uncomfortably close to the ground, but he sneezes and nods and says  _ Mhm _ and  _ Is that so? _ at the right moments, and that seems to satisfy Lockhart enough to just get him home in one piece.

“Thanks for the ride,” Remus says to him with a polite smile as Lockhart pulls the car up in front of his building. “It was very nice working with you, Gilderoy— hopefully we can do it again in the future.”

Lockhart, however, is already unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. “I’ll walk you up,” he insists. “I’m not in a hurry.”

Remus only sighs and gets out of the car. _I’ll never have to see him again after this,_ he reminds himself. _Just say goodnight and goodbye and be done with it._ But when they make it up to the third floor and stop outside Remus’s door, Lockhart is rather unrelenting that Remus should invite him in for coffee.

“I’d rather not,” Remus says, sniffling. “Nothing against you, but I’m ready to turn in for the evening.”

“But I paid for your dinner,” Lockhart says indignantly. “I bought wine for the table. I let you ride in my Ferrari.”

“Well, thank you for all of that, but I’m really not comfortable—”

“I put up with your criticisms for months. The very least you could do—”

“I really don’t want to, Gilderoy—”

“Come on darling, don’t play coy—”

“I’m not going to shag you, alright?!” Remus practically hollers into the hallway, and he’s immediately embarrassed by his tone. He’s even  _ more _ embarrassed when Sirius opens his door and steps out into the hall.

“What’s going on here?” Sirius asks, peering at Lockhart.

“Sorry if I woke you,” Remus says, softly this time as he adjusts his glasses. “My associate was just leaving.”

Lockhart huffs. “A kiss goodnight then?” he asks, leaning uncomfortably into Remus’s personal space. Remus sneezes again.

“No.”

“No one says no to  _ me _ .”

“He told you ‘no’ like, five times mate,” Sirius says, taking a step forward. “Take the fucking hint and piss off.”

Lockhart rolls his eyes, giving Remus one last assessing look. “Honestly, you’re lucky I even offered. I’m incredibly wealthy.”

“Okay, Gilderoy,” Remus says. He sneezes again.

“You’re not even that attractive.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Sirius grabs Lockhart’s arm and pushes him toward the elevator, but Lockhart snatches his arm away.

“Don’t touch me! This suit costs more than everything you own combined. Anyway, I’m leaving,” he says, then turns back to Remus. “You. Call me when you wise up to your mistakes,” he says, and finally,  _ finally,  _ he steps into the elevator.

Remus slides his fingers under his glasses and groans as he rubs his hands over his face. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s fine. Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just tired of that man. Thankfully I never have to see him again.”

“Are you sick?”

“Nah, just allergic to fuckboys.”

Sirius laughs. “Was that the crazy book guy?”

“That was him.”

“What a prick.”

“Thank you, by the way. For helping me with him. I owe you one. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did. He wasn’t going to leave.” Remus nods and there’s an awkward silence while he pulls his keys from his pocket until Sirius starts again. “What he said wasn’t true, by the way. He’s full of shit. He was just embarrassed.”

Remus glances over at him, lifting an eyebrow. “What he said about what?”

“When he said you’re not attractive.” Sirius opens his door. “You are,” he says with a wink, and steps back into his flat, closing the door behind himself.

Remus can only grin as he pushes his own door open.

Perhaps he’ll take Sirius up on that beer tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

With both the project and Gilderoy Lockhart finally out of his hands and hallway for good (though the toxic smell of his terrible cologne lingers on), Remus surrenders himself to the best sleep he’s had in months. He awakens well-rested and content, reveling in the soft music through the wall and stretching languid in the afternoon sunlight through his bedroom window like a lazy cat. He has nothing to do today, and he plans to enjoy it fully.

He makes himself a proper lunch and indulges with a nice, warm soak in the tub, then later, when he’s dressed and shaved and his curls are somewhat tamed, he makes his way over to Sirius’s flat and raps on the door.

“Just a sec!” Sirius hollers from the other side. After a moment it swings open, and Remus is greeted with a cheerful, sunny smile. “Remus,” he says, “what a pleasant surprise.”

“I’m done critiquing that terrible book at last so I thought it was time I finally take you up on that offer to critique your art,” Remus jokes. Sirius immediately steps aside and waves him in.

The layout of Sirius’s flat is the mirror opposite of his own, but compared to Remus’s rather plain, earth-toned second-hand decorating, Sirius has filled his space with colorful art, eclectic knick-knacks, and funky furniture. His sleek modern sofa is even a warm tomato red, and Remus can’t help but grin as he steps inside. 

“Wow,” Remus says, looking around in wonderment. “Our flats are practically identical except yours is much cooler.”

Sirius laughs. “Is your flat all beige, Remus?” 

“Unfortunately, yes. The most colorful I get is a few wilted houseplants tilting on the precipice of death, I’m afraid.”

“I can’t help it, I’m drawn to bright colors and beautiful things,” Sirius says, gently squeezing Remus’s shoulder as he scoots past him and into the kitchen. “I’ll have to show you my studio. I picked this flat specifically for the view.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t swap flats when Mrs. Figg moved out,” Remus says, watching as Sirius grabs two beers from the icebox. “Or else you wouldn’t have moved in.”

Sirius smirks and pops the caps off, then passes him a bottle. “Are you flirting with me, Remus?”

Remus blushes, taking a quick sip before he responds. “I’m just glad you got your view, that’s all.”

“Oh right, of course,” Sirius says with another of his cheeky winks.

So, Sirius shows him around the small flat, pointing out which pictures hanging on the walls are the ones he’s painted or drawn and telling little stories about his tchotchkes, and Remus laughs so easily with him, as if they’ve known each other for years. 

They finish their drinks and Sirius leads him into his studio, and he wasn’t lying about that view. They’re only on the third floor, but the entire neighborhood is visible from here, including the lively green of the park across the street with its budding blooms and the vibrant pink cherry trees blossoming in the spring sunlight. Remus almost regrets not swapping flats now— this would’ve made a perfect place to read.

Sirius brings a dining chair in for Remus to sit on while he kneels on the floor himself to dig through his seemingly random piles of paintings, but there’s apparently some sort of order to Sirius’s madness after all. He knows just where everything is, and it comes as no surprise to Remus that Sirius is actually quite a brilliant artist. Remus is no expert by any means but he knows what he likes, and the figures and landscapes in Sirius’s paintings call to him with their pretty splotches of soft color in a quiet way that he cannot explain or describe eloquently— all he can get out that makes any kind of sense is  _ This is lovely _ and  _ Oh, I really like this one. _

In all honesty, he is floored by Sirius’s talent. He’s envious even— not of his new friend, but of the orange-haired woman gazing at the viewer with her sleepy green eyes, of the brown-skinned man with with his wild, black hair and long fingers on the keys of a piano, of the gorgeous blonde with a cascade of wildflowers in her plaited hair. Every one of Sirius’s subjects are stunningly beautiful people, and Remus feels as out of place in this room surrounded by these pretty faces as he did in his cheap suit at the French restaurant last night. 

“So remember how you said you’d owe me one?” Sirius asks, watching as Remus flips through a stack of canvases leaning against a wall. “For helping you with the book arsehole?”

“Sure, anything you want,” Remus agrees. “I’ll come over and make you breakfast, buy you a six-pack, go get your art supplies, whatever.”

“I was thinking— well, I have a show coming up and I was wondering if you’d pose for me.”

Remus looks up at Sirius and raises his eyebrows. “Pose for a painting?”

“Yeah.”

“Me?”

Sirius grins. “Yeah, you. What do ya say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Sirius.” Remus turns his wide eyes away from him and back to the paintings. “I’m not… I’m not exactly  _ this _ ,” he says, holding up a canvas. The man in the painting is striking, brown-haired and brown-eyed, naked except for a white sheet draped over the lower half of his body as he lounges in bed. “I could never look like this.”

“You’d be surprised,” Sirius attempts to reassure him and takes the canvas out of Remus’s hands. He stands and crosses the room to stow it away inside the little closet.

“An ex?” Remus asks.

“Yeah,” Sirius says, and closes the closet door. “We didn’t really end things on good terms.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay. You couldn’t have known.”

“Right.”

“So will you do it?” 

“Pose for you?”

Sirius laughs again. “Yes! Come on, you’ve got a great face for capturing light.”

“My nose is too big,” Remus says, scrunching his face up.

“Your nose is perfectly adorable!” Sirius argues, and Remus considers this for a moment, grinning as he chews on his bottom lip. “Besides,” Sirius continues, “the light color of your eyes is striking, the way your dark eyelashes lie against your cheekbones, your freckles— ugh, you’d be a dream to paint.”

Remus can feel himself blushing and he can’t help but wonder if Sirius has that particular shade of lobster red amid his collection of paints as he smiles at Sirius’s praise. “Fine!” he agrees, and Sirius beams as he claps him on the back. “When do you wanna do it?”

Sirius smirks at him, raising a flirtatious eyebrow.  _ “Do it?” _

“You know what I mean!” he exclaims, his blush deepening.

Sirius laughs again. “Whenever you’re free. We can start today, if you’d like.”

“Right now?” 

“Sure,” Sirius says and shrugs. “I’m not doing anything else today. Are you?”

“No. I suppose I could.”

“Perfect! Let me just go change into my painting clothes and I’ll be right back.” 

“Should I do anything?” Remus asks him.

“Hmm…” Sirius looks at him, assessing him for a moment, tapping his chin in thought. “Do you have a white button down shirt?”

“Umm, no, I don’t think so.”

“You can wear one of mine. It’ll be loose but that’s even better. I wanna do a waist up portrait,” he says, then disappears into the other bedroom. He returns a minute later with the shirt, then leaves Remus on his own to put it on.

Once they’re both changed and back in the studio (with Sirius in those same ridiculously distracting sweatpants), Sirius sets up his easel and paints and attempts to direct Remus’s posing as he sits in the same chair as before, tilting his head just so, so that the sun catches his eyes and hair or turning his torso in ways that feel too awkward and unnatural. Remus hisses when the sunlight catches his glasses, and he removes them to rub his eyes, but then Sirius reaches out suddenly, grabbing his wrist to still Remus’s hand.

“What?” Remus asks, but Sirius is only staring at him. “What did I do?”

“Nothing, you just— Do that again?”

“Do what?”

“Look down, and then look back up at me.”

So Remus does. He looks down at his hands and after a moment he blinks and looks up slowly, right into Sirius’s eyes. He doesn’t blink again or say anything, but the intensity of Sirius’s steely gaze on him makes him want to close his eyes and lean in.

“That’s it,” Sirius says quietly. “Leave them off.”

“Alright.”

Sirius releases his wrist and moves to undo the first few buttons on the shirt. Remus holds his breath all the while, staring at him as Sirius’s fingertips graze his collarbone, steadfastly reminding himself that now isn’t the time for making any moves. But god, how he wants to— wants to feel Sirius’s mouth on his own, wants him to keep undoing the buttons, wants him to touch his bare skin, wants to get him out of those sinful sweatpants and devour him.

Instead, he stays where he is, allowing Sirius to hold his chin and position his face as he likes.

“There we go,” Sirius finally says then pauses, pressing his lips together and rubbing Remus’s thigh just below the hem of his shorts before moving back behind his easel and sitting on his stool. “Try to stay as still as possible.”

Staying as still as possible for an hour turns out to be no easy feat, but Remus tries his very best despite still feeling the tickle of Sirius’s fingers on his neck and the weight of his hand on his leg and how warm and broad it’d felt, even for that split second it’d been there. Remus knows what those subtle touches meant, that Sirius wants something too, wants  _ him, _ and this is basically all Remus can think of for the entire hour that Sirius spends painting him, flushing bright pink under his scrutinous eye.  _ I’m going to kiss him after this, _ Remus thinks to himself, and his growing desire seems to make time move even slower.

But, toward the end of their session, someone bursts into Sirius’s flat without knocking, shouting his name. With a sigh, Sirius apologizes and sets his brush down, then stands and exits the room.

“Mate, I told you to  _ knock _ before barging in here,” Sirius says from the living room.

“Oh sorry, didn’t realize you were painting,” the man responds. Remus steps out of the room then, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, and he instantly recognizes the man as the pianist from one of Sirius’s paintings. The man takes one look at Remus and smirks before slyly shifting his eyes back to Sirius. “Or  _ were _ you?”

“ _ Yes, _ I was painting. Nothing like that. Remus is just my neighbor,” Sirius explains when he turns to look back at Remus standing in the doorway, and it’s not a lie, but something about that statement stabs at Remus’s gut. Maybe he’d read Sirius wrong. After all, he’s certainly nothing like the beauties in Sirius’s other paintings, and he suddenly begins to wonder if Sirius also has a collection of hideous troll paintings hidden somewhere. Not that Remus has ever believed himself to be  _ ugly,  _ just… average. And Sirius is definitely out of his league. It was silly of him to even think otherwise.

“Well, sorry, but I am freaking out,” the guy says, throwing his hands into the air. “I need help!”

Sirius turns back toward his friend and sighs again. “Alright, fuck James, give me a moment. Sit down and relax,” he says, gesturing toward the sofa.

The guy— James— he plops down onto the sofa, and Sirius steps back over to Remus with a roll of his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, looking down at Remus with something between a smile and a frown as he leads him toward the front door. “James is apparently having some sort of crisis. Can we finish this tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Remus agrees and slides his glasses back onto his face. “When should I come over?” 

“Can I get your number?” Sirius asks him, pulling out his mobile. “I’ll text you.”

“Alright,” he says, but he feels as if something has shifted abruptly between them.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s all rather confusing, Remus thinks to himself that night as he’s lying in bed. James has been next door for hours— Remus can hear them both talking through the wall though he can’t make out anything they’re saying. He’s not sure if James is an ex too or just a friend or what, but Remus can’t help the pang of jealousy that’s needling at him, to be cast aside so suddenly after he was so sure he and Sirius had been sharing an intimate moment, it hurts despite the brief time he’s known him.

But, true to his word, Sirius texts Remus in the morning asking him to come back over and continue their session. After showering and changing back into Sirius’s shirt, Remus agrees, and as he’s stepping out of his flat to walk over to Sirius’s there’s James standing at the elevator. He’s only just now leaving. He must have spent the night. 

He gives Remus a little wave and Remus raises his hand politely, tight-lipped as he feels his face heat up in embarrassment. He scurries over to Sirius’s door and knocks.

———

“What’s wrong? I can see the insecurity written all over your face,” Sirius says later, once they’re settled in his studio.

“What do you mean?”

Sirius laughs. “It’s hard to paint you correctly when you’re making that expression.”

“That’s my face,” Remus says sharply, clenching his jaw. “That’s just what I look like.”

“Remus…” Sirius starts, setting his brush down. “James is just a friend, you know. He’s my best mate.”

“It’s none of my business,” Remus says evenly. “I’m only your neighbor.”

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Like what? That’s what you told your best mate.”

“I didn’t want him thinking you were something you weren’t.”

“What am I not then?”

“Just a shag,” he explains, picking his brush back up, but Remus doesn’t know how to respond to that. “I’m completely enamored by you, you know,” Sirius continues after a moment. “I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.”

“You painted him too.”

“Fuck James Cock-Blocking Potter. His straight ass came over here to whine about his fiancée. I don’t mean that I wouldn’t be doing the painting otherwise,” Sirius says. “I mean that I’ve made such an effort to accidentally bump into you everywhere you go. You know I have a washer and dryer in this flat? And yet I hurried out to follow you downstairs. Just to talk to you.”

Remus doesn’t say anything for several beats.

“Really?”

“Yes. And to be quite honest, seeing you in my shirt is doing things to me.”

Remus can’t help the smile that slowly spreads across his face then, and he shifts his eyes to look at Sirius. “What kind of things?”

“You know what kind of things.”

“I might not.”

“Use your imagination.”

“Oh, I have been. My imagination and my hands.”

Sirius glances at him from over the edge of his canvas with one eyebrow arched in interest. “Is that right?”

“It is.”

“...Fuck.”

Remus snickers quietly, smiling brightly beneath the sunlight streaming over him through Sirius’s window. All reservations and insecurities he had have swiftly melted away with Sirius’s sweet words— Remus has never had anyone work so hard for his attention, not that Sirius, with all of his charm and good looks and low-slung grey sweatpants necessarily had to really try at all.

“I almost wish you hadn’t said that because I really just want to rush through this painting and carry you into my room,” Sirius says to him. “Of course, I could just stop and finish it later, but the lighting is so perfect and I absolutely have to take my time with you.”

“Did you mean take your time painting me or…”

“Or. Definitely or. Fuck,” he says again. “I swear I’m almost done.”

“Take your time painting too, I’m not going anywhere,” Remus says jokingly. Sirius only grumbles in response.

Thankfully, he is finished rather quickly. Sirius rises from his stool and steps back from the painting to assess it, then with an eyebrow waggle, beckons Remus to come and look at the finished project. Stretching his arms over his head and his stiff legs out in front of him, Remus groans then gets up and strides across the room to stand beside Sirius.

“Oh wow,” Remus says. The painting is absolutely breathtaking— Sirius has managed to capture every flyaway strand of hair, every freckle, and every little dabble of sunlight that sits on the tips of his eyelashes and cheeks and nose. “Do I really look like this?” he asks.

“Even prettier,” Sirius says, turning toward him. “Come here.” He reaches out to Remus, then finally pulls him into his arms and leans down to press the gentlest of kisses to his grinning mouth. Remus returns the kiss, sliding his palms over and up the planes of Sirius’s chest, then wraps his arms around his neck, parting his lips when he feels the tip of Sirius’s tongue begging to slip inside.

Sirius holds his face between his hands delicately, reverently, as their tongues explore one another, taking and tasting, their bodies pressing ever closer. Remus bites Sirius’s bottom lip playfully and Sirius moans, slipping his hands down to Remus’s skinny hips, then his ass, the tips of his talented fingers digging into his backside.

The kiss is broken suddenly, and Sirius attaches his mouth to Remus’s neck. Remus sighs happily, knowing full well that Sirius has sucked a pretty purple mark into his skin, but he’s perfectly giddy to be claimed and marked by this gorgeous man.

“Wanna go to my room?” Sirius mumbles against his ear sending a delightful shiver up Remus’s spine. Remus agrees, laughing when Sirius takes both of his hands and pulls him forward, leading him into the other bedroom. 

Sirius kicks the door shut with his foot and hurries to catch Remus’s mouth with another bruising kiss, walking him backward until Remus’s legs hit the edge of the mattress and he sits back upon it. Remus parts his knees as he lies back, tugging Sirius forward by hooking his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. Sirius settles on top of him, and Remus slips a hand up to Sirius’s silky dark hair, tugging it loose from its band as he winds his fingers into it.

“You know, I was so angry when I came over this morning,” Remus breathes, giggling quietly through his nose when Sirius bites down gently on his shoulder. “I saw James out in the hallway and figured you two had slept together. That you kicked me out after flirting with me to be with him.”

“Oh, ew, no!” Sirius exclaims, pulling back a bit to stare down at him incredulously. “Oh god. No. No! He’s practically my brother! He got drunk and passed out on my sofa!”

“Well I didn’t know! You have to admit it looked pretty bad. Besides, you’re both good looking.” Remus shrugs. “It makes sense.”

“ _You’re_ good looking. You’re like... the cutest boy I’ve ever seen,” Sirius assures him and shakes his head. “Honestly, I’ve been obsessed with you since we met.”

Remus laughs again and moves his eager hands back down Sirius’s fit body, ready to pull his shirt off and finally get him out of those sweats when he hears the front door slam open.

_“Sirius! I need your help!”_ James hollers from the living room.

“No!” Sirius groans, burying his face into Remus’s neck. “I’m going to murder him. I am actually going to kill him dead just for some peace and goddamn quiet.”

“Does he not know how to knock?” Remus asks and pulls back from him. “Do you not know how to lock a door?”

_“Sirius!”_

“I am so, so sorry,” Sirius says, his voice pleading a bit. He strokes a gentle thumb over Remus’s cheekbone and tucks a stray curl behind his ear. “I know you’re annoyed. I promise I am too. Let me kick him out and then we can finish this.”

“Okay,” Remus reluctantly agrees.

Sirius gives him a little smile and kisses him again, but Remus parts his lips and slides his tongue along the seam of Sirius’s mouth, causing Sirius to whimper softly and roll his hips against him.

_“Sirius!”_

“Fuuuuck,” Sirius whines, slamming his fist on the mattress. “I’d so much prefer to hear you screaming my name,” he jokes, and after a moment he pushes himself up from the bed and stands, adjusting his erection to sit beneath his waistband. Remus smiles to himself— Sirius isn’t hiding much. “Gimme five minutes?”

Remus nods and Sirius leaves the room, closing the door behind him, and Remus can hear him attempting to console his friend as James just continues babbling. But five minutes pass, and then fifteen, and then thirty, and Remus is feeling pretty sufficiently irritated. With a huff of annoyance, he rolls off of Sirius’s bed, straightens his disheveled clothing, and exits the bedroom.

Immediately, Sirius and James both whip around to look at him. James gives him a knowing smile, but Sirius looks positively exhausted.

“Remus, I am so, so sorry,” Sirius says again, moving to block Remus’s path as he makes his way to the door. He grabs Remus’s arms, holding him in place with no force behind his grasp, but Remus only looks to the side. 

“It’s fine, really,” he lies, knowing his annoyance is clearly written all over his face. “Just… help your friend. I’ll be next door if you’re ever done. Hopefully he won’t barge in on us there.”

“Thanks Remus!” James says. “You’re a real pal!” Sirius rolls his eyes at that, then looks back to Remus.

“I’ll make it up to you. Anything you want.”

He tries to hold back the smile, but Remus can’t keep the corner of his mouth from ticking up in amusement. “Fine,” he says, popping up onto his tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to Sirius’s lips. “See you later.”

———

It’s nearly midnight when Sirius texts him that he’s coming over then quietly raps on his door. Thankfully, Remus is still up, though he’s not sure he’s still in the mood to hook up— that is, until he pulls his door open to see Sirius standing there looking rather pitiful with a cheap bouquet of wildflowers from the corner bodega and a paper bag in his fist.

“What’s all this then?” Remus asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I come bearing gifts,” Sirius says, handing the bouquet to him when Remus steps aside to let him in. He closes (and locks) the door with the flowers in hand then turns to Sirius, grinning.

“And what, may I ask, is in the bag?” Sirius holds out the bag and Remus snatches it from him, looks inside, and laughs out loud. “Condoms and a pint of chocolate ice cream?” 

“Thought we could use one,” Sirius starts, wagging his eyebrows, “and then share the other.”

“You are a true master of seduction,” Remus snorts, then steps into the kitchen to put the ice cream in the freezer and the flowers in an old vase filled with water. The stems are a bit too long for the flowers to sit inside nicely, so he leans them against the wall for the time being. “What’s with your friend, anyway?”

Sirius sighs exasperatedly. “They’re planning a wedding and driving one another crazy, which in turn is driving _me_ crazy. I swear, it won’t happen again.”

Remus only hums in response.

“Do you forgive me?” Sirius asks with a pout, holding his arms out to him. Remus simply rolls his eyes and goes to him willingly.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says and wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist. “You’re just trying to be a good friend.”

“Eh, I keep disappointing you and that sucks because I really, really like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!” Sirius laughs, squeezing him a bit.

“Well, you can make it up to me.”

“How’s that?”

Remus tips his head toward the paper bag on the countertop. “Grab that and follow me.”

He slips away from Sirius’s grasp and starts toward his bedroom, peeking over his shoulder in time to see Sirius grabbing the bag and scrambling after him.

Once inside the bedroom, Sirius drops the bag on the bed and pulls Remus close to him and into another steamy kiss. Despite Sirius’s earlier insistence that he wanted to take his time with Remus, neither of them seem to have the patience for that now as they both quickly pull their shirts over their heads, and that doesn’t bother Remus one bit— the one thing that’s been consistently on his mind besides kissing Sirius is the shape of Sirius’s dick hanging loose inside his sweatpants. Just the thought of it spurs Remus on, and he pushes Sirius against his dresser, rattling the framed photos and knick-knacks, then swiftly drops to his knees, tugging Sirius’s pants down just enough for his hard cock to spring free toward Remus’s face.

Remus grips his hips and licks him slowly from his balls to the tip of his cock. Sirius stares down at him with his lips slightly parted, one hand against the curve of Remus’s jaw and the other holding himself up against the dresser when finally, finally, Remus takes him into his mouth, his eyelashes fluttering as Sirius pushes deep inside with a relieved hiss.

“Fuck,” Sirius sighs, gently cupping Remus’s face as he removes his glasses for him and sets them aside. He thrusts forward slowly, carefully, taking his time, and Remus knows Sirius is reveling in watching Remus’s mouth work him over, enjoying the way they keep their eyes locked onto one another as he takes Sirius deeper into his mouth. He preens a bit beneath Sirius’s gaze, smirking with a bit of cockiness when he wraps his hand around the thick length, stroking him as he sucks and teases the tip with his tongue. Sirius lets out a pained whimper, then pulls Remus off of himself.

“Come here you goblin,” he gruffs, pulling Remus back to his feet. “You trying to make me come already?”

Remus snickers, still stroking Sirius when he kisses him again. “I’d be pretty damn proud of myself to make a man as gorgeous as you lose control,” he mumbles against Sirius’s lips, but Sirius is already pawing at him hungrily, working his little shorts down past his narrow hips. Remus steps out of them and kicks them away.

“You’re the gorgeous one,” Sirius insists while he slides his large hands up Remus’s sides then down his back, cupping his ass to pull him forward. “I could stare at you for hours. Paint you just like this.”

”Paint me how? Like this?” Remus teases him, smiling as he pulls away from him and turns to kneel on the edge of the bed with a glance over his shoulder.

“I could do you like that,” Sirius breathes, watching Remus with narrowed eyes. His sweats are still bunched around his thighs as his fingers skitter over to wrap around his cock.

“Or—” Remus continues on with his teasing and rolls over to lie on his back. He parts his legs, granting Sirius just a peek before his hand finds his dick, and he moans softly before biting his lip. “—like this?” 

“Shit—” is all Sirius gets out before he’s kicking off his trainers and shimmying out of his sweats, then hurries to pounce on Remus, pushing him down flat onto the bed. Remus laughs freely as Sirius kisses his cheeks, his smile, his neck, their hands roaming everywhere to touch and caress as their bodies move together effortlessly.

He wonders why it is he’s never had such fun having sex in his life, why he’s never joked like this with a lover or been so confident about his body. But it’s easy with Sirius, it comes so naturally— Sirius gives him his complete focus and makes Remus feel like he’s the only thing in the room, the world, worth his attention. He seems to willingly give over all power to Remus to let him do as he pleases, and Remus happily takes the reins. 

As he rolls a condom over Sirius’s length, Sirius kisses him soundly and guides Remus to straddle his waist and carefully lower himself down. With soft, sighing moans from the both of them, Remus finally takes what he’s been craving for weeks, and judging by the way Sirius rolls him back onto the bed and chants his name like a prayer as he fucks Remus so tenderly, Remus is sure Sirius has been craving him as well.

When they’ve both come and they’re lying sweaty and sated in dim lamplight, loose-limbed and languid, Sirius wipes the mess from Remus’s stomach and chest with his own discarded t-shirt then takes him into his arms to kiss him again. Remus closes his eyes, and with a contented exhale, eventually drifts off to sleep while Sirius lies beside him, tracing incomprehensible patterns onto his bare skin. Remus dreams of swaths of color gently brushing over his body in a myriad hues of blue and grey— the same colors of Sirius’s eyes.

———

“So I was thinking,” Sirius begins, poking at a dumpling with his chopsticks. “I’d like to take the paintings for my show in a different direction.”

The two of them are hiding out in Remus’s flat from James and his seemingly endless and increasingly ridiculous wedding ‘emergencies’, sitting on the sofa with their legs intertwined while eating Chinese takeout. It’s been a few weeks since their first roll in Remus’s bed and they’ve spent every day together since then, either here or next door or at the park across the street, just hanging out or eating or getting handsy or working quietly alongside one another. They’ve fallen into a comfortable new routine together as they grow to learn more about each other, and Remus finds that Sirius is more than just incredibly good looking and a talented artist— he’s smart and bold and passionate, and he makes Remus laugh harder than anyone else ever has. 

He’s not some perfect, infallible thing however— he has his own issues and insecurities just as everyone does. His parents sound like terrible people and he’s estranged from his brother despite how much he clearly cares about him, and the only support that has been a constant in his life are James and his parents. Remus is grateful that Sirius at least has them.

This is something very new for Remus. Normally, he’s a decently introverted person, but Sirius has pulled him out of his shell in such an easy and effortless way. Even when dating people in the past, Remus had typically remained relatively reserved and guarded, but this time, even while unsure of their official ‘status’, things are easy and natural, almost as if they’ve been friends for a much longer time. He wishes they had been.

But, he finds he rather enjoys this new, more adventurous side of himself, even if it’s only a few little changes— he’s making bolder choices with his work, for example, ample timing as he begins a new project— and he has Sirius to thank for that.

“What kind of different direction?” Remus asks. Sirius smiles at him and rubs his shin with his hand.

“Well, I was going to do all portraits, all different people, but what’s exciting about that? I’ve done that ad infinitum. That’s all I’ve ever done— portraits and landscapes.”

“Sure, mix things up. Why not?”

“Right? So I was thinking— well. What is truly beautiful? What captures my attention? What do I want to show off to the world? What is my muse?”

“And what did you decide?” Remus asks him, then takes a sip of his water.

“I want to do twenty nude paintings of you.”

Remus sputters, spitting out his water all over himself as he chokes on it. Sirius leans forward to take his glass from him and sets it on the table as he gives Remus’s back a few good whacks to help him cough it up.

“Are you alright?” Sirius asks, furrowing his brow as Remus passes his food box to him and rises from the sofa. “Christ, Remus.”

“Fine, I just— You what now?”

“You don’t have to do it, of course!” Sirius assures him. “But I just. I would really love to. Paint you, that is. I’ve imagined it all— the poses, the colors. You were made to be painted.”

“You’ve painted me,” Remus says. He reaches for a few of the paper napkins that came in their bag and dabs uselessly at his wet t-shirt and shorts.

“I have,” Sirius agrees, “but not like this. It would be… transformative, transgressive— subtle purity combined with gay eroticism. You know what I mean?”

“No,” Remus laughs nervously. “I don’t.”

“Like this!” Sirius says, gesturing to Remus’s sad, wet state. “I mean, not this exactly, but this mood— your face and… and those eyes and freckles. With the wet shirt? God. So sexy. Perfectly sinful.”

Remus snorts. “This is sexy to you?”

“Everything about you is sexy to me. I want everyone to see that.”

Remus looks at him, at the expression on his face. He’s being earnest, and Remus wonders what exactly it is about himself that has Sirius so smitten, so unafraid with his words and his emotions, so eager to say everything plainly and leap headfirst into madness. But, Remus thinks, he’s almost sure he feels quite the same way.

After dropping a kiss to the top of Sirius’s dark hair, Remus hurries to his room to change into dry clothes, then settles back onto the sofa with his feet in Sirius’s lap and cracks open a fortune cookie.

_“What is life without a little risk?”_ it says, and Remus looks up at Sirius with a little smile.

Perhaps he wouldn’t mind being Sirius’s muse after all.


	6. Chapter 6

A few nights later, Remus finds himself lying nude on his side on a rather uncomfortable fold-out cot in Sirius’s studio. His back is to Sirius with one arm propping his head up, the other delicately laid out over the curve of his hip. The windows are draped with a sheer, gauzy fabric, causing the moonlight to cast a soft, hazy glow over his body. 

Sirius’s hands are warm as they slide over Remus’s exposed skin, carefully adjusting his leg just so or turning his head to the side so that he may properly capture his profile. He leaves Remus feeling rather tingly all over, semi-aroused, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Sirius snickers quietly and moves a large hand down to Remus’s ass, spanking him lightly as Remus huffs angrily through his nose, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you mind?” Remus asks. “Or would you rather pause this and go to the bedroom?”

“I would never get anything done if I didn’t check myself around you,” Sirius responds, giving Remus’s bum another sweet pat. “But I fully intend on some proper debauchery after this.”

“If I let you,” Remus says cheekily.

“You will.”

Remus snorts in mock-annoyance as Sirius raises a hand to tousle his curls then backs away from him to take his place behind the easel and begin the sketch. As the minutes pass and turn into hours, Remus closes his eyes and allows the warmth of the evening air through the open windows to embrace him as he drifts away to the gentle crackle and buzz of Sirius’s turntable and the soothing sounds of his brushstrokes on the canvas.

He dreams he could live here forever under Sirius’s gaze. 

Beneath his brush.

———

When he awakens, Sirius is whispering to him with his lips close to Remus’s ear— “If you want to continue sleeping, you should take my bed. You’ll get all cramped up if I leave you here.”

Remus presses his mouth against his own arm and yawns, then stretches. “Nah. I’m awake now. Are you done with it?”

“Mhm.” Sirius tilts his head toward the easel and hands Remus his glasses. “Take a look. Some of my best work, if I do say so myself.”

Rolling onto his opposite side, Remus puts his glasses on and looks over to find that Sirius has turned the easel around to face him, and the painting that sits before him is one of the loveliest things he’s ever seen in his life. 

It’s all painted with blues and greys and purples, very similar to what he’d seen in his dream, lending a somber appearance to the piece. The eye is immediately drawn to the concave and convex juxtaposition of the dip of his waist and the rise of his bony hip while his arm barely hovers over that subtle groove. Despite the odd coloring, the curls of his hair actually look real and soft, the freckles on his shoulders and cheeks are there, just barely, amongst the swirls of paint on his cheekbone and the shadow of his eyelashes, and his ass looks so smooth, so supple and soft.

He sits up, barely even believing it’s actually a painting of  _ himself _ as his mouth falls open. “Sirius, it’s—” he begins to say, but cuts himself off. “It’s— I—”

“Gorgeous, huh?”

“Yes. You are insanely talented.”

“I’m  _ pretty _ good,” Sirius agrees, “but this is all you, babe.”

Remus smiles at the compliment as he presses himself against Sirius, wrapping his arms around his waist, but Sirius backs up a bit, grimacing. Remus glances down at himself.

“Oh,” he says, then laughs at the paint splotches on his bare skin from Sirius clothing. “Oops.”

“Well then.” Sirius leans down to drop a kiss behind his ear, then stands and pulls Remus toward his messy work table. “Might as well make the best of this.”

“Why do I feel like I’m going to need a shower very shortly?”

Laughing, Sirius moves his easel and positions Remus over the tarp on the floor, then picks up a tube of light blue paint and squeezes some of the thick substance onto his fingers. “Don’t move,” he says, walking around Remus before kneeling behind him and smoothing the color over his ass.

“Christ, that’s freezing!” Remus yelps, hopping up onto his tiptoes. “What are you doing?!”

“Painting your butt,” Sirius responds simply, grabbing another, darker color, and spreads that over his skin as well. He stands and slides his palm around to Remus’s flat belly, his thigh, and back over his chest, painting him everywhere that his single hand can reach. Remus gazes downward, following the movements of Sirius’s hand and the colored paths his fingers make as he adds more and more colors, mixing them, blending them, until his body is as striped and swirled as Sirius’s canvases. 

Remus can only laugh at the absurdity of it all— to stand here naked and smeared in a myriad of colors while Sirius’s hands linger warm and gentle on his body is like something out of a bizarre dream or a hallucinogenic trip. Both of Sirius’s hands are covered in sticky pinky-purple as they glide up the fronts of Remus’s slender thighs and torso purposely ignoring his hardening cock, and Remus reaches through the madness of it all to pull Sirius flush against his body and kiss him soundly on the mouth. Sirius follows him happily, pressing his paint-covered palms to the sides of Remus’s jaw as he holds him there delicately. Both of their mouths open together, and Remus bites down on that sweet bottom lip before their tongues both slip out, the tips barely touching as their mouths slot over one another’s, their panting breaths mingling together, and then Sirius is pulling the string on his sweats and pushing them down, and only pulls away for a split-second to yank his t-shirt over his head before reattaching his lips to Remus’s.

“Like this?” Remus breathes dizzily as his arms slip around Sirius’s neck. “Right here?” Not that he’d really mind all that much, to have Sirius take him right here on the crinkling tarp while the colors on his skin bleed black into one another. He presses his painted body against the blank canvas of Sirius’s own naked flesh, then without any further ado, Sirius scoops him into his arms, kicks open the door, and heads straight for the bathroom.

It isn’t long until Sirius has Remus under the soothingly hot spray of the shower head. The paint drips down their bodies, swirling around their toes as they continue lavishing one another with kisses and tender caresses. Sirius’s mouth is all over him— kissing over his shoulders and chest, biting down gently on his sensitive nipples, licking his stomach, sucking the soft skin of his inner thigh as he lifts it to rest Remus’s foot on the edge of the tub. The sight of Sirius on his knees before him with his long hair loose and wet has Remus impossibly hard, and thankfully Sirius doesn’t let his teasing go on too long before he sucks two fingers into his mouth and eases them both into Remus’s asshole.

Remus sighs, leaning his head back against the tiled wall, and as Sirius begins to fuck him and rub him just right with his fingers, he wraps his free hand around Remus’s already aching cock and squeezes.  _ “Sirius,”  _ Remus breathes, pushing his hips forward, and after a few glorious strokes Sirius finally takes him into his mouth.

Quickly, Remus is lost in the all-consuming yet entirely perfect feeling of Sirius all around him. He can’t remember ever being touched so perfectly or kissed so passionately, and he knows that he’s already getting himself in too deep with this guy. He’s caught feelings— the kind that leaves him giddy after only a few texts. The kind that leaves him breathless after a single kiss. The kind that makes him think about Sirius when he should be working instead. The kind that makes him want to lose control and do things he’s never done before. The kind that can break a guy like him when all of this is over, when Sirius is done painting him and he inevitably moves on to the next person who’s caught his attention. He knows it’s not fair to think of Sirius this way, that he hasn’t been anything other than incredibly charming and doting in a way that Remus has never experienced before, but somehow he can’t help but think he doesn’t deserve that attention. That he deserves the heartache.

But he’ll take what he can get for now.

And as Sirius slips a condom on and presses Remus’s chest against the cool tile and eases into him, Remus shoves those negative, self-loathing thoughts far out of his mind and allows himself to enjoy what they do have— including the mind-blowing sexual chemistry. 

Instead, he focuses on Sirius’s panting breath on his shoulder, on his large hands gripping his waist, on the way he fucks him so slowly and deeply and  _ good _ , on the way he leaves Remus a babbling, whimpering mess of a man when he jerks his cock and makes him spill against the tile, on the way he pulls out carefully after he comes and turns Remus around to kiss him over and over, on the way he lovingly cleans off the remnants of paint and semen from Remus’s skin and after they’re both dried off, on how he takes Remus to his bed and spoons up behind him before falling asleep with him in his arms.


	7. Chapter 7

A few weeks later, after endless hours of posing and seeing his own bum and bits painted in nearly every hue imaginable, Remus finds himself in front of his full-length mirror, staring at his reflection as he straightens his tie.

He’s in his brown tweed suit again, freshly dry cleaned to be rid of the horrible smell of Lockhart’s cologne that had still been clinging to its threads, and he can’t help but frown at what he sees. As lovely as Sirius’s paintings are, he doesn’t feel that Sirius has properly captured his likeness. Truth be told, as much as he loves the attention Sirius has been lavishing upon him and adores the way he looks in the paintings, he’s not the seductive sex kitten that he sees on these canvases, he is just a man— just a man in a cheap suit and an outdated prescription for his weird vintage hipster glasses; just a man with sleepy eyes and messy hair and a long list of failed relationships under his belt; just a man with a regular job and few acquaintances and an unimpressive flat that no one (besides his boss, his parents, a few hookups, and now Sirius) has ever visited.

He sighs and grabs his wallet, keys, and phone before making his way over to Sirius’s.

———

“Babe, you look great,” Sirius says with a grin when he opens the door to greet Remus, then leans forward to kiss his cheek. 

Remus disagrees but doesn’t say so. Instead, he looks down at his suit and then at Sirius’s, and he can’t help but mentally compare himself to the other man. He’d already thought that Sirius was out of his league, and now seeing him cleaned up with his scruff shaved off and his hair slicked back and pulled into a low ponytail, dressed to the nines in his black button-down shirt and grey pleated trousers— it only solidifies that in his mind. 

“Thanks,” Remus says. “You do too.”

Sirius shrugs on his matching suit coat and gives Remus another wide smile before pulling him into a hug and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“You ready?” Sirius asks.

“No,” Remus responds truthfully, laughing. “I’m nervous as hell. But I’m more ready than I’ll ever be.”

———

He prays he’s not being led into the middle of some huge joke as they walk arm in arm along the sidewalk toward the gallery. Of course, Remus has no reason to think Sirius’s intentions are anything other than what he says— he seems to genuinely like him after all, they have fun together, they talk and laugh for hours, and truthfully it has been more than just painting and sex. 

The evening is cool and brisk as the sun begins its descent toward the horizon, and the cherry trees are in full bloom. The fragrant branches hang above their heads, forming a cozy little tunnel of sweetly scented pink and white as the two of them stroll along, and Sirius holds Remus closer to him.

“I know you’re nervous,” Sirius says quietly, nudging him gently with his elbow. “And I respect that. But it’s not as if anyone you know will be here tonight. And you’ll probably never see any of them again. I mean, besides James. And his fiancée, Lily. And his parents who practically raised me. And some of my other friends.” Remus whips his head around to look up at him and Sirius immediately cringes at his own words. “Sorry. That sounds like a lot, I know. But you really don’t have to worry about any of them. They’ve seen my work and they know who I am. Honestly, they won’t even blink twice.”

Remus releases a little snort and adjusts his glasses as they step up to the gallery’s double doors. In the window hangs a large poster with Sirius’s name in big, bold lettering along the bottom with the name of his show—  _ Celestial Bodies—  _ but most of the poster is one of his paintings of Remus. Thankfully, Remus thinks, it’s one of the ones where his bits are tastefully obscured by his own thigh. Sirius, ever the gentleman, pulls open the door for him, and with his hand on his back, he guides Remus into the gallery. 

Remus looks up and around at the large space already buzzing with activity. Several servers are carrying trays of bubbling champagne and fancy looking hors d'oeuvres as they flit among the growing crowd of chattering guests. Dozens of colorful paintings hang on the walls, including the portraits of his friends Sirius had done previously and, of course, those of Remus’s own nude body— and while that alone is a uniquely bizarre feeling, add onto it the smiling guests and their expressions of wonderment and the fact that these paintings are for sale, well, Remus is understandably in a bit of a shock.

Clasping his hand and lacing their fingers together, Sirius pulls him along and introduces him to his agent, Olympe Maxime, an impressively tall and extremely French woman with a sleek, artsy black bob, and the married owners of the gallery, Frank and Alice Longbottom, who seem relatively plain but are both rather excited to meet Remus, whom Sirius has introduced as his  _ ‘brilliant muse’.  _ They’re all very friendly and Remus makes as much polite small talk as he can and answers everyone’s curious questions, but thankfully Sirius seems to intuit his nervousness and cuts the conversations short to talk with some of the guests.

They find James in the crowd and Remus is finally introduced to the gorgeous Lily— who, in Remus’s humble opinion, seems far too intelligent and sane for James— and his parents, Effie and Monty, who, as Sirius explains, took him in when he left his home as a teenager. Both of them embrace Remus like he’s already family and Effie kisses his cheeks. He meets more of Sirius’s friends— Peter and Mary, Dorcas and Marlene, and Remus can’t help but smile despite his naked bits being on full display for all of these people to observe— but they are all so warm and kind and he doesn’t feel judged by them at all, and he’s glad that Sirius has so many good people in his life.

With a quick kiss to Remus’s forehead, Sirius breaks from the crowd to mingle with the other guests and to thank them for coming, and Remus wanders off on his own to finally really observe the paintings of himself. He hadn’t realized before that they all fit a theme, but as he moves to each one and reads their tiny placards, he finds that they all have clever names like _ Supernova, Eclipse,  _ and  _ Nebula,  _ and both his poses and the chosen palettes seem to reflect those names. He’s stopped several times by people asking if it’s him who’s in the paintings and he tells them all yes with a shy smile, and he’s a little bit floored when they gush that Sirius has perfectly replicated his image. 

However, there is one person who seems rather unhappy about the whole thing— a good-looking man around his own age, with brown hair and eyes who seems familiar in a far off way that Remus can’t pinpoint. He stands alone with his arms crossed, staring up at  _ Aurora _ (a striking piece done in greens and blues and purples just like the northern lights) with a grimace on his face. His eyes slide away from the painting for a moment to catch Remus looking right at him. Remus blinks away from him and adjusts his glasses, but he’s already been noticed.

“Excuse me, are these paintings of you?” the man asks him.

“Er… yes,” Remus says. “You seem to not like them though.”

“No, no. They’re quite good. And nothing against you personally, of course,” the man assures him. “It’s just that… well, I used to date Sirius, so this is kind of difficult.”

“Oh!”

“I’m Caradoc,” he says, and reaches out to shake Remus’s hand.

“Remus,” Remus responds, taking his hand. “I— yes, I think I’ve seen a painting he did of you, now that my brain is putting it all together.”

Caradoc huffs. “He painted several of me actually. Let me guess, you’ve been together less than six months.”

“I wouldn’t say we’re  _ together _ , but… yes.”

“Well, sorry to say it but he’ll probably bore of you within the year,” Caradoc says flippantly. Remus frowns, glancing down at his shoes, but Caradoc continues on. “Artists are fickle like that. Always searching for their next muse. Tossed me aside for a woman, and then he was only with her for a month. He was with  _ me _ for two years and still didn’t want to commit.”

“Yes well... I’m not expecting anything from Sirius. We’re just friends.”

“Friends who fuck,” he responds knowingly. “You can keep telling yourself it’s nothing serious to you, but I know the effect he has on people. He’s fun and charming and makes you feel good about yourself. He makes you want more of that attention, but when you finally ask for it, he’ll take it all back.”

Remus blushes and looks away into the crowd to find Sirius— he’s not hard to spot with his height and his loud, barking laugh. He’s across the room, grinning as he touches the arm of a finely dressed older man.

“Look, it’s none of my business,” Caradoc says with a shrug, following Remus’s line of sight to Sirius. “Just warning you. Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Regis.”

“Er… it’s Remus, actually. And I don’t need your warning.”

“Right. See you around then.” Caradoc waves a hand as he turns on his heel toward the exit. Fuming, Remus grabs a glass of champagne from a passing server and downs it in two gulps before setting the empty flute down on a table and bee-lining toward the bathroom.

———

“What do the little red dots on the placards mean?” Remus asks Sirius when they meet up again in the crowd.

“They let everyone know which paintings have sold,” Sirius explains, taking his hand and nodding across the room. “See the chubby older man with the mustache? That’s Mr Slughorn. He has a  _ huge _ erotic art collection. Went on and on about how he needed  _ Penumbra _ and paid a ridiculous amount of money for it. He’s also straight, so that’s certainly saying something.”

Remus feels another warm blush tickle up his neck at the realization that people actually want his naked ass in their homes that badly as Sirius continues on. 

“And that couple over there? Albus and Gellert. Super gay and super wealthy. They’re always at these shows. I flirted a little with them and they bought  _ two _ pieces. Can you believe it?” Sirius laughs and Remus smiles but looks down at their connected hands. “What’s wrong?” Sirius asks. “You look like you just got bad news.”

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” Remus lies, knowing well enough that Caradoc’s words have dug deep into the meat of all of his insecurities. “I just. I met Caradoc, that’s all.”

“Oh no,” Sirius sighs, raising his head to glance around the gallery as if to find the man in question. “Is he still here? What did he say?”

“He left, I think, but basically he said you’d get bored of me soon and move on to the next person who catches your eye,” Remus explains with a mirthless chuckle.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Remus, listen to me. Caradoc is just bitter that we broke up. He wanted more from me and I wasn’t ready to settle down. It was  _ years _ ago and he still won’t let it go. It’s irrelevant, alright? None of what happened with him had anything to do with you or us. I really like you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Remus nods, but he can’t help that nagging self-loathing that hides in the back of his brain, waiting to pounce on moments just like these. 

Sirius rubs Remus’s back soothingly and he’s about to say something else when a woman’s voice calls out to him through the throng of people. 

“Remus!”

Remus freezes. His eyes go wide in abject horror as he stares up at Sirius who only cocks his head to look around Remus at the approaching woman. Remus doesn’t need to turn around, he’d recognize that voice anywhere, but he’s been caught now and there’s no use hiding. He starts to turn slowly with an embarrassed smile plastered onto his face, praying for literally any kind of interruption to weasel his way out of this— a power outage, an alien invasion, a sudden art heist— but he has no such luck. He has to face her.

“Oh… hi Mum. Hi Dad.”

“You know,” his mother begins with a teasing smile as she points up at one of the paintings, “your bum looks exactly the same. Nothing’s changed since you were in diapers. Perfect lil peach, innit dear?” she asks, turning toward her husband.

Remus gapes at her. “Oh my god,  _ Mum.” _

“Don’t embarrass the boy,” his father says, clapping him on the back, but Remus can feel that his face is already beet-red. 

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, sweetie. These paintings are breathtaking!” she says and pulls Remus into a warm hug. “You must know the artist then?” 

“Um, yes,” he says, clearing his throat before apologetically looking over to Sirius, who has been uncharacteristically quiet throughout this entire exchange. “This is Sirius Black. Sirius, these are my parents, Hope and Lyall.”

“Nice to finally meet you both,” Sirius greets them, shaking their hands. “Remus has told me a lot about you.”

“That’s funny,” Hope responds, turning her eyes back upon her son. “He knows about us, but we didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.”

Remus blanches. “Oh, um. He’s not. He’s not my boyfriend,” he tries to explain, but Sirius perks up beside him.

“Wait… I’m not?”

“Are you? I thought—”

“Oh Hope, look what you’ve done. You’ve put them both on the spot,” Lyall says jokingly, then reaches out to ruffle his son’s hair.

“He wouldn’t paint you like this if you weren’t together,” Hope says with a shrug, and Remus can tell her inner art critic is coming out now. “It’s evident to me that there are some intense feelings between the artist and his muse. The colors he’s used, the delicate paint strokes, the expressions on your face, Remus, and the way you’re posed. Even the name of this collection tells us all what he thinks of you.”

“My mother, the artist,” Remus laughs quietly, but he knows his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He glances sideways at Sirius, who is already looking back at him.

“She’s not wrong,” Sirius says, slipping his hand around Remus’s smaller one. “I guess we’ve never talked about it, but I thought you knew. I’m not exactly a subtle man.” He raises Remus’s hand to his lips to kiss the back of it softly.

“These paintings are certainly not subtle,” Lyall remarks, pushing up his own glasses. Remus can’t tell if he’s as embarrassed as Remus is or if he’s simply taking the piss, but he suspects it’s the latter.

“No… I suppose you’re not very subtle,” Remus says to Sirius. 

“Remus, my heart, I know you,” his mother continues on. “You’re always putting yourself down, thinking you don’t deserve good things when they come to you. And it’s simply not true. You’re a good boy, and you’ve clearly found someone who thinks very highly of you,” she says, smiling up at Sirius. “Enjoy it. Let yourself have this. And for the love of God, bring him over for dinner sometime.”

“Yeah, Remus. Let yourself have this,” Sirius agrees, waggling his eyebrows. Remus smiles again, genuinely this time, and rolls his eyes.

“Right then, love. Let’s leave them be, we’ve flustered our son enough for the evening,” his father says, and reaches out to shake Sirius’s hand again. “Nice to meet you, Sirius. Very nice artwork, by the way.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“It is all rather lovely,” his mother agrees. “Maybe we’ll buy a piece to hang over our mantel!” she teases as her husband drags her away. Remus groans and turns to Sirius, ducking his head into the taller man’s chest. Sirius only laughs and curls an arm around him.

“Your mum is adorable.”

“My mum is insufferable.”

“Is that where you get it?”

“Yes!”

Sirius snorts. “Well, you should listen to her. She’s a smart lady.”

Remus tilts his head to look up at him. “My parents saw my painted... bits.”

Sirius kisses the top of his head and pulls away from him. “Yes, and I’m sorry you’re embarrassed but they didn’t seem to be anything but proud of you. You’re ridiculously lucky to have parents like yours.”

“You’re right. I am.”

“And she was right about everything. I absolutely adore you, and I need you to forget everything Caradoc said because he’s a pathological liar who, to this day, still stalks my Instagram account. You’re more than just my muse, you know. You’re hilarious and clever and cute as hell. You make me feel so… good, in this kind of indescribable way. I just— I really like you. Really fancy the hell out of you.”

“Really? But I’m not… I’m not Caradoc or James or any of those other beautiful people you painted. I’m just... Remus. Plain, average Remus.”

“I like you because you’re  _ you. _ You’re different than anyone I’ve ever known— and that’s a compliment. Besides, you have to give yourself more credit. Just look at these paintings,” Sirius says, waving a hand to gesture around the room. “You’re stunning. Every single one of these sold tonight. These people wanted  _ you. _ I saw the way they gushed over you all evening.”

“Really? All of them sold?”

“All but one.”

Sirius leads him over to the final painting and Remus stares up at it—  _ Moonlight,  _ Sirius had named it. It’s the first nude one Sirius did of him, the one done in soft blues and greys. 

“Wonder why this one didn’t sell,” Remus says. “It’s actually my favorite of the whole set.”

“Mine too,” Sirius agrees, squeezing his hand. “That’s why I turned down everyone who inquired about it.”

“You what? Why?”

“Not for sale. I want to hang it in our bedroom.”

Remus blinks.

“Our?”

Sirius turns to him, smiling softly as he takes both of Remus’s hands in his own. “Will you move in with me, Remus? It’d make me insanely happy if you did.”

Remus is completely taken aback by the question as he stands before Sirius, gaping like a fish as he contemplates the enormity of it all. He suddenly feels a bit dizzy, as if he’s had too much champagne, but he’s drunk on more than just sweet bubbles.

“You want to live with me?” he asks cautiously.

“Yes. Well, only if you want to. Either at yours or mine. Or we can find a totally new place and start fresh when our leases are up. No pressure. I’ll just continue standing here nervously sweating bullets until you answer.”

“I… Of course I’ll move in with you.”

“Really?!”

“One condition though.”

“Anything you want. Name it.”

“Can we lock the door so that James won’t barge in every twenty minutes?”

Sirius beams brightly as he takes two glasses of champagne from a passing server and hands one to Remus. “To my muse,” he says quietly, only to Remus, holding his glass up before clinking it delicately against the other man’s. “May he continue to let me paint— and fondle— his beautiful bits.”

Remus can only shake his head, laughing softly through his nose before taking a sip.


	8. Chapter 8

Six months later, beneath a large, sparkling crystal chandelier on the dance floor of the elegant hotel where James and Lily Potter are having their wedding reception, Remus leans his head against Sirius’s shoulder as they sway together gently. Sirius’s arms are around his waist, holding him close as they just barely move to the music, the sweet sounds of chatter and Frank Sinatra crooning in the background, and Remus is there, curled against him with his fingers clinging loosely to the lapels of Sirius’s black tuxedo jacket.

Remus feels him press a kiss onto the top of his head and smiles to himself. He’s tired— they both are. They’ve been here all day celebrating with their friends, and while it had been an absolutely lovely event (Lily was radiant, James was handsome, and Sirius had given a heartfelt and hilarious speech as best man), Remus is ready to call it a night. His new dress shoes pinch his toes and he’s sure he has blisters, and though he had nibbled quite a bit throughout the evening he’s still pretty hungry. Right now, he’s wanting nothing more than to pick up some of his favorite Chinese takeout tofu on the way back to the flat, kick off his shoes, rip off his itchy rented suit, and slip blissfully into a hot bath for nothing more than to simply relax.

“You’re practically sleeping on your feet, babe,” Sirius says, squeezing him a bit. “Wanna go home?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles in response. “Pick up Chang’s on the way?”

Sirius chuckles quietly. “Sure, you addict. Whatever you want. Let’s say goodbye to James and Lily first.”

“Alright.” 

Covering his mouth to hide a yawn, Remus walks alongside Sirius across the ballroom hand in hand. They both give their congratulations to the newlyweds and bid them goodnight with happy hugs and kisses all around before making their way outside to Sirius’s car. 

He phones in their takeout order while Sirius drives, then slips his shoes off to let his feet breathe through his argyle socks and wiggles his toes. The windows are down and the evening air is crisp and cool against his warmed skin, and it wakes him up enough so that he doesn’t fall asleep in the car. Sirius pulls into the parking lot and dashes in to get their food, and when he brings it back to the car, the delicious scent of the spicy kung pao fills Remus’s nostrils and makes his stomach rumble all the way home.

Once Remus is out of the car and into the elevator with the backs of his shoes dangling from his fingertips, Sirius pulls him against his body and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. Remus blinks up at him sweetly— he’s less sleepy now, just happily content to lean here against this man,  _ his _ man, who’s come to be so special to him this past year. He knows Sirius is equally overjoyed to have Remus lean on him, to have Remus to lean on whenever he needs it, and to share his flat,  _ their _ flat, with its spectacular view of the park and the collection of memories they’ve begun to weave into its curves and corners.

Remus’s subdued earth tones have certainly crept in to mingle with Sirius’s bright decor. It’s something they both laugh about, something they both enjoy about each other and their newly shared space, because it’s so very  _ them— _ there’s Remus’s moss-green throw pillows clashing with Sirius’s tomato-red sofa, Sirius’s colorful art hung on the walls he re-painted in the beige color Remus picked out, the flowers Sirius brings him tucked inside Remus’s grandmother’s vases, Remus’s antique books sitting on Sirius’s modern shelves, Remus’s wooly jumpers beside Sirius’s sleek leather jackets in the closet, and Remus couldn’t be happier about all of it.

“I desperately want a bath,” Remus announces, dropping his shoes by the front door.

“You don’t wanna eat first?” Sirius asks him.

“Eh, I’ll eat after. Wanna join me?”

Sirius grins at the request. “Absolutely.”

Of course, the mere thought of doing anything naked with Remus sends Sirius into a bit of a tizzy but they’re both exhausted so they manage to make it into the bathroom with their clothing still intact. Remus is relieved to get out of his stifling suit and hums happily when Sirius loosens his tie for him and slips it out from beneath his collar with the softest kiss to his lips, though it’s almost a shame that Sirius has to lose the tux— he looks damn good in it. But as Sirius begins to disrobe, Remus is more than happy to watch him hang his jacket on the back of the door and pluck open each of his shirt buttons, exposing his hairy chest and stomach underneath before sliding it off; to watch his large hands move lower to undo his belt and unzip his trousers. Remus wets his lips with his tongue, his eyes flickering back up to Sirius’s to find him smirking mischievously.

“See something you like?” Sirius teases, dropping his trousers to the floor before stepping out of them and moving toward Remus. Remus snickers quietly and allows Sirius to wrap his arms around his waist.

“Just thinking about how incredibly lucky I am.”

“Mmm, nah, I’m the lucky one,” Sirius mumbles against the sensitive, ticklish skin at the juncture of Remus’s neck and jaw as he’s pushing the jacket off of Remus’s shoulders and onto the floor. Remus laughs then swats him away to pull the rest of his clothing off, and Sirius gives him a wink before bending to turn the faucet on. 

He tests the water and steps inside once it’s full and steaming, then sits and holds his arms out for Remus to fill the space between his parted knees. Remus has to laugh out loud at the sight— Sirius’s legs are much too long and his torso too broad for the tub, leaving very little room to wedge himself into, but thankfully he isn’t nearly as large a man as Sirius is.

Remus eases himself down to rest in front of Sirius, leaning back against him comfortably as the hot water engulfs his tired body. Sirius puts his arms around his middle, holding him against his chest. They stay that way for a while, just enjoying the soak and closeness of one another, with Sirius pressing sleepy kisses to Remus’s grinning face. Sirius helps Remus soap up his back and rinse the shampoo from his curls, and once they’re both pruned and the water goes cold, he helps Remus out of the bath and they both slip into their terrycloth robes before heading into the bedroom. 

Remus puts his glasses on and falls back onto the bed heavily while Sirius goes to fetch the food and some glasses of water from the kitchen. He rolls himself over onto his stomach with his chin in his hands to look up at the large blue and grey painting on the far wall by the door and smiles to himself— nearly a year together and he is no longer feeling inadequate. Sirius has proven to him time and again that he legitimately cares for Remus, that this is the real deal, that he has no intentions of casting him aside. For the first time in his life, Remus is sure of his feelings and where he stands.

Sirius brings the food and drinks back into the room and flops down on the bed beside Remus, passing his box of kung pao over to him. Taking up a pair of chopsticks, Remus thanks him with a kiss and begins to dig into his meal. They talk about the wedding and the latest book Remus is editing and the new art series Sirius is working on and the trip they’re taking to Sirius’s uncle’s beach house for their one year anniversary, and Remus just revels in the casual domesticity of it all and how he’d do anything for the man beside him— the same one who is currently slurping up a mouthful of lo mein.

Remus cracks open his fortune cookie and pulls out the little slip of paper folded inside, laughing to himself as he reads it. He smiles and bites his bottom lip, then looks over at Sirius.

Remus isn’t one to necessarily believe in fortunes or fate or luck, but he does believe in honesty, overcoming obstacles (even when self-made), and pushing his fears aside. Sirius, in his own way, taught him not to be ashamed of who he is. So why not speak up?

“Hey,” Remus says, nudging the other man’s arm with his elbow. Sirius turns to look at him with one curious eyebrow raised.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Sirius smiles.

It’s the first time either of them have said it, though Remus can’t deny he’s been feeling it for quite a while. Maybe even a long while. But none of that really matters much— he's said it now without any fear and he knows what Sirius is going to say before he actually says it.

Sirius reaches out to cup his jaw and leans forward to press a soft kiss to Remus’s mouth.

“I love you too,” he says sincerely. “So very much.”

Remus grins brightly and passes the tiny fortune to Sirius, and Sirius takes it from him, reading it out loud.

_ “Love wasn’t written in the stars; it was painted by them,” _ he reads, then promptly laughs out loud before rolling himself on top of Remus and kissing him over and over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](https://remus-john-lupin.tumblr.com/)!


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